Partners
by MCmondo
Summary: Partners in more ways than one. Series of un-connected, short T/Z one-shots.
1. Hormones

**Sorry I've sucked at posting anything this summer. But I've just been through the process of getting a new laptop, so thought I'd just give ya'll a small series of unconnected one-shots to break in the new keyboard. I may add to this every now and again but, for now, I have posted five little one-shots. Hope you enjoy them.**

* * *

Returning home after a long day's work always had its merits. There was always a bed to sleep in, a couch to lay back on and a distinct lack of crime investigating to be done. For years he would spend Home Time alone. Evenings would consist of ordering take-out, watching TV, drinking a beer or two, and going to bed. There was no one to share this mediocre lifestyle with. No one to help him recover from a trying case or a traumatising shoot-out. No one to crawl under the covers with at night. No family outside of his surrogate NCIS one. His goofy and self-confident façade became harder to maintain as his loneliness increased.

But those days were long gone.

Nowadays, he opened the door to a warm and familiar smile. Deep, brown eyes surrounded by exotic curls was a sight that never ceased to brighten his day. And that was before he even laid eyes on the swollen stomach unsuccessfully trying to hide beneath one of his old shirts. Yes, loneliness really was a thing of the past.

He found her on the couch, eyes closed, feet up, and an absent minded hand gently running over her ever-growing baby cocoon. He couldn't hold back the smile, and didn't want to. Being gleeful about the future was nothing to be ashamed of. And a future with Ziva? Some dreams really do come true.

''Tony?''

His smile grew. Of course she would notice his presence, even when she was supposedly sleeping. He approached the couch and leaned down to give her a loving kiss on the forehead. This greeting seemed sufficient enough, her soft smile made that clear. His heart never failed to skip a beat whenever he saw the twinkle in her eyes when she looked at him- as she did now- when they were reunited after a long day.

''Everything ok?'' He asks, referring to both the life forms currently residing on the couch.

She nodded, knowing full-well that he liked to have assurance. ''Everything is fine. Although, your daughter has been quite restless today.'' Her hand stills as they both gaze down at her stomach. ''I think she is anxious to meet us.''

''Yeah? Well I'm anxious to meet her, too.''

She looks back at him, a loving warmth in her expression, before reaching up and pulling him into a deep kiss. ''You are home early.'' She states when they've pulled back. ''I thought you said it would be a late night at the office.''

He shrugged. ''It would've been, if the boss hadn't sent me home.''

''He did? In the middle of a case?''

Her surprised frown made him chuckle lightly. ''I know, right? Maybe he's hit his head, or something.''

''Well, you do have a pregnant wife waiting for you at home. I think he, of all people, understands what you are going through.'' She ran a gentle hand through his hair in a comforting gesture he'd become wonderfully familiar with.

He tilted his head in consideration. ''I guess that _could_ be the reason.'' He theorised. ''Or it could be the fact that I whined like a little kid until he couldn't stand the sight of me any longer.'' Her soft laughter was music to his ears, as always. ''It's been known to happen.''

She hummed in agreement. ''Well, I am happy to see you, so it has worked out for everybody.''

''Yeah.'' He said, re-arranging himself so he could sit down and lean against the foot of the couch. ''Except McGee. He's stuck with a grumpy Gibbs and a crap-load of searches to run.''

''He will understand, too.''

He simply grunted in response as she began massaging the tension out of his shoulders. It had such a relaxing effect on him that he actually closed his eyes and thought about snoozing right there and then. He decided against it, though. His responsible role had now officially transformed from senior field agent to helpful husband. ''You eaten anything? I can fix dinner if you want.''

''I have eaten like a pig for months, Tony, and today was no different.''

He let out a light-hearted chuckle. ''Well, it's dinner time, Little Miss Piggy, so-'' He yelped as she pinched his collar bone in apparent offence. ''I mean it's dinner time, my beautiful wife, so you must be getting hungry again.''

She groaned. ''I am starving.''

He turned his head back around to look up at her. ''Why didn't you say something?''

''I only just realised when you mentioned dinner.''

He frowned in confusion. ''I don't think that's how hunger works.''

She rolled her eyes. ''Please can you get me some food, Tony? I cannot be bothered to get up.''

''Me neither.'' Her glare told him what she thought about that particular joke. ''I'm kidding. What do you want? There's still some of that lasagne left in the fridge.''

She chewed her bottom lip. ''No…there is not.'' She informed him with a hint of embarrassment.

He held back the sigh. ''Ok. Is there _anything_ left in the kitchen?''

''I am not an animal, Tony.'' She snapped.

''But, you just said you've been eating like a-''

''-Oh, would you please just get me a Philly cheese-steak sandwich with bacon before I- _literally-_ die!''

Her sudden outburst was loud and slightly frightening. She covered her face with both hands in distressful exasperation while he stared at her, mouth agape. He had seen a lot of mood swings during her pregnancy but he didn't think he'd ever be able to successfully predict her next craving. Seriously, how can a hormonal brain be so specific? ''Right, I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess we don't have any of them in the house.'' He said carefully.

Her face reappeared from behind her fingers, four of which were moved to her temples for a calming massage. ''I am sorry, Tony. I am being unreasonable…again. You just mentioned dinner, and then I thought about the sandwich, and now you must hate me-''

''-It's ok, Ziva, really.''

''No, it is not.''

He reached up and brushed a few loose curls from her face. ''If my baby needs a Philly cheese-steak, then she's gonna get a Philly cheese-steak.''

Her eyes were wide and pleading when she met his. ''You would do that for me?''

''I'd do anything for you.''

Tears started forming in her brown orbs now, and his brief panic ended when he realised this particular brand of emotional crying was a somewhat happy one. He gave her a quick kiss before he got back to his feet. ''I'll be back in twenty minutes with a special pregnant-Ziva care package.'' He vowed.

He was about to leave the room when her tear choked voice halted him. ''Tony?'' He turned back to her with a questioning eyebrow. ''Could you also get me some fries.''

''Sure.''

''And a jar of peanut butter.''

His brow furrowed. ''Um, okay.''

''I love you.''

His frown was replaced with a warm smile. ''Love you, too.''

And so off he went. On a new mission.


	2. Journey

''Ziva?''

She could have sworn she heard his voice, but her mind was still stuck somewhere between being fully asleep and…well, _mostly_ asleep. She wasn't sure it could qualify as awake yet. That was her chosen reason for ignoring the familiar tone she assumed- or hoped- she was imagining. Nap time was not over by any stretch. It was only when she heard him again- much louder this time- that she was successfully coaxed from her slumber.

''Zeee-vaaahh. Would you wake up?''

She just about managed to express her newly found consciousness through an incoherent groan. The sound of the engine growling and passing cars sweeping by assaulted he ears and became constant. It was only when she opened her eyes that she remembered she was in a car with Tony. In fact, her head was currently slumped on his shoulder as he continued to drive the Mustang calmly. Her mind took a while to catch up, and she found herself a bit confused by her current position.

''Rise and shine.'' He greeted with a small smile.

She thought it would be generous to even label her response as a grunt.

''Sorry for waking you.'' He said softly. ''But you kind of fell on me a minute ago and I'm finding it pretty hard to change gear.''

She sat back up in her own seat like a shot. ''Sorry.'' Oh, _there_ was her voice.

He chuckled. ''Don't be. It gave me a good excuse to disturb your beauty sleep.''

''And why did you want to do that?'' She asked, now giving her hair some attention in the mirror.

''I'm hungry.''

She rolled her eyes. ''Of course you are.''

''So I was thinking maybe we could stop somewhere and resolve that issue.'' He suggested. ''And you can have that coffee you mentioned wanting before you passed out earlier.''

She shot him a look of disapproval. ''I did not pass out.''

He laughed again. ''Literally, one minute it was ' _you drive like an old woman'_ and ' _I need a coffee'_ and then the next minute you're snoring like a sedated walrus.''

She huffed. ''If you are not used to the snoring by now, then I am worried.''

''I didn't say I wasn't used to it.'' He defended gently. ''It's actually kind of comforting, in a weird way.''

That comment actually made her smile, and her chest warm. Yes, she had to agree that the level of familiarity they shared was, indeed, a great comfort. Almost everything she used to find irritating about him had, rather strangely, become characteristics she could never live without. They were all part of the man she fell in love with, and so their existence had been accepted long ago. She was fairly certain he felt the same way about her, hence the success of their personal and professional relationship.

When they had pulled in to the rest-stop, he turned his head to meet her eyes for the first time in what felt like forever. ''Are you gonna come in or do you want to stay in the car and pass out again.''

''DiNozzos do not pass out.'' She recited with a wink.

Her words brought the infamous grin to his face, as he reached over and brought her hand to his mouth to kiss her knuckles. ''You're not a DiNozzo yet.'' He reminded her, though there was nothing but love in his tone. And maybe a hint of anticipation.

''Give it time.'' She replied with a delightful flutter in her stomach.

His eyes sparkled when he began tracing the engagement ring on her finger with his thumb. ''As long as I'm with you, I can have all the time in the world, sweetcheeks.''

She beamed at the man she loved. Openly, honestly. After too long spent hiding it.

A hint of anticipation, indeed.


	3. Concussion

''Hold still, Tony.''

The stern reminder had its desired effect, and he was quick to bring an end to his fidgeting. Needless to say, Ziva's patience seemed to be running thin. Although, as she wiped an antiseptic cloth over another of the three gashes on his face, he could read the concern in her tone and body language. It was typical really. They both get in a brawl and _he's_ the one who comes out of it with the cuts and bruises. She didn't even have a scratch. Not that he was bitter about it, or anything. He was actually happy to take all the hits if it meant she remained unscathed. Seeing her in pain would've been worse than his current list of injuries, anyway. Ziva's close proximity, along with the quiet privacy they were sharing in the bathroom, made him forget about the pain. There was something romantically intense about the whole situation.

His thoughts were brought to a stop when she framed his face between her hands. ''Are you still with me?'' He could see the worry in her eyes when he looked into them.

''Yeah, I'm good.''

His voice was still a little raspy from the consecutive punches his gut had received earlier, and it made him sound worse than he actually felt (even though everything actually did hurt quite badly). He could tell that his words provided no real reassurance to his partner by the way her eyes narrowed slightly as she ran her fingers over his scalp in search of a head injury.

''Are you sure you are not concussed?''

He could tell she was trying to cover up her level of concern with a relatively light tone. She wasn't fooling anyone, especially him. He would never call her out on it, though. Suddenly she seemed even closer than before, and her eyes seemed to have him entranced. What exactly are they talking about again?

''Tony?''

He blinked his way back to Earth. ''Hm?''

''I think you should be in the hospital.'' There was no attempt to hide her worry this time.

He briefly considered that she might have a point. He wasn't feeling too hot, and his head _did_ feel a little bit…hazy. Maybe Ducky's advice was unsound for once. Wait a second, when was Ducky ever wrong? He didn't need to go to hospital according to the trusty medical examiner, which was good. He hated hospitals, and he hated being fussed over. There were only two people he didn't mind making a fuss over him: His mother, who hadn't been able to do so for over three decades, and Ziva, who was…well, _Ziva_. The nurses and doctors could go-

''Tony?!''

He jumped in surprise. ''What?''

She took a deep breath to calm herself. ''I am taking you to the hospital. I do not care what you say.''

''No.'' He insisted, finally ready to talk back. ''Ducky says it's fine, Ziva.''

''I do not care. You have taken a beating, and I'm not taking any chances.'' She said with a stern point of the finger. ''Besides, Ducky could be wrong.''

He scoffed. ''When's he ever been wrong? What have I always told you? There are only three people in the world whose work should never be questioned, and that's Gibbs, Abby and Ducky.''

''I question _you_.'' She emphasised her point by poking him on the shoulder. ''You are never honest about your injuries. _Ever_. And I am always left worrying that you are bleeding into your skull.''

He just about held back the burst of ironic laughter threatening to surface. ''Well, look who's calling the kettle black.'' Her head tilted, and she sent him a look halfway between mad and confused. He recognised this oh-so familiar expression. ''That means you're being a hypo-''

''-I know what it means, Tony.''

He sighed heavily. ''I mean it, all right?'' He assured her. ''I'm a bit stiff, and everything aches, but I really don't need a trip to the emergency room.''

Her face softened, before she seemed to reluctantly accept his words. ''Ok. But you are not leaving my sight.''

''That's good to know, because I'm not done getting lost in your eyes yet.''

He wasn't really aware of his own words until he saw her expression change to one of surprise. Maybe he was concussed because, though it was the truth, he didn't actually mean to say it out loud. He wasn't sure whether or not his words would be well received, but he knew there were two ways this could go now. She would either brush it off and treat it like he was teasing her or, more scarily, she could acknowledge the sincerity in his tone and be genuinely dumbfounded by it.

''I'm sorry, Ziva, I didn't-''

She abruptly shushed him.

He was either relived or terrified when he finally figured out how she was going to react. Her eyes really never did shut up, after all. He could see the affection shining in them as she reached up and ran her hand over his cheek, never once looking away from him or trying to hide. He was open with her, albeit accidentally, and now it looked like she would be the same. Only, for her, words weren't always a necessity. That fact was more evident than ever when she fully closed the distance between them.

Their lips met, and the world stopped.

Suddenly, nothing hurt anymore. Well, maybe his heart did a little bit. The sudden spike in his pulse must have been overworking it slightly, but it was a good feeling. He was fairly certain of that, anyway. When they finally pulled apart, he found himself falling even further under her beautiful spell. She'd never looked so gorgeous. He had to get in more bar fights, starting immediately, because the pros were outweighing the cons right then.

Not for the first time, it was as if Ziva read his mind. ''Please try not to get yourself beaten up anymore.'' She pleaded softly. ''I hate seeing you suffer.''

He sent her a teasing grin. ''Maybe I like you playing nurse.''

She gave him a harmless slap on the shoulder. ''Well, I do _not_ like it.''

He put himself in her shoes for a second, and it dawned on him that he would be acting the same way if _she_ was the one who got beaten to a pulp. Instead of an apology, he rose from his position against the sink and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. After a few seconds, she returned the embrace, clearly needing the comfort he offered, despite the fact that she wasn't the one who was in physical pain.

Because, really, seeing each other get hurt was the most painful thing about this job.


	4. Sync

It always happens in a split-second.

They are chatting, teasing, strolling in each other's company. Their affection for one another evident for all to see, even if they try not to admit it. It's a familiar situation on an unfamiliar street. Approaching a suspect's house is the task at hand, but the real mission has always been to let themselves grow closer together. This is an objective their hearts want nothing more than to achieve, even if accomplishing it has proven to be difficult throughout the years.

But they're still here. Together. After all the ups and downs.

But, as it often happens in these cases, their enjoyment in each other's company is brought to an abrupt end as they slip into professional, special agent mode. They can see a body in the living room, and the door has been busted open. All smiles are wiped away and all teasing stops. Guns are drawn and signals are sent. And this is why they're the best partners in the world. This efficient and wordless synchronization. Their connection is far deeper than some simple flirtation. They are on the same wavelength.

Bad-ass mode activated.

They sweep into the building, eyes simultaneously scanning the rooms and watching each other's backs. No hallway, no exit, no square inch goes unchecked. If the murderer still remains in the in the house then they won't be getting away. When the final ' _clear'_ is announced, they lower their guns, though two pairs of vigilant eyes never cease to keep watch over the surroundings as they wait for their team to arrive.

There was no need to fire their sigs today, but whenever there is, the dynamic duo would fight like the well-oiled, two-cylinder machine they are. Their brainwaves were as intertwined as their souls. One day their personal relationship will reach the same level of mutual dedication. But for now, their bond remains strong enough to hold them together.

Another case blown wide open. Another mystery to solve. Another criminal to catch.

A partnership like no other.


	5. Domestic

The warmth and comfort she feels when she wakes up is not exactly a new sensation, but the happy tingles she feels throughout her entire body are still somewhat surreal. In the past, waking up in a bed that wasn't hers would put her on edge. But, even though she didn't technically live in this apartment, she felt like she belonged there. She could tell this by the familiar smell, unmistakable softness and gentle touch of the man she was lying next to. And, in truth, it really didn't matter where she was as long as he was there. This felt like home.

 _He_ felt like home.

Feeling the sudden need to show him how treasured he is, she rolls over in his arms and places a loving kiss to his shoulder. He wakes up after only a few seconds of her gently running her hands through his sandy hair. The sleepy smile she receives, along with the warm affection in his eyes, is enough to make her bones melt. So this was what being in love felt like? She could get used to this.

''Hey.'' He greets groggily.

Holding back her joyful smile was more or less impossible. ''Good morning.'' She placed a kiss to his slack lips.

He hummed in indulgence. ''Did the bossman call us in?''

She shook her head. ''No.''

''Then what's with the wake-up?''

''I just wanted to see you.'' She nuzzled his neck to hide her love-sick face.

He groaned when she kissed his throat. ''Well, I guess you're not a bad sight to wake up to.'' He raked his fingers through her curls as she looked up to his eyes again.

'' _Not bad?''_

He winced slightly at her raised eyebrow. ''That's my way of saying your gorgeous face is perfect way to start the day.''

She snorted at his attempted recovery. ''Don't make me regret waking you up, DiNozzo.''

''I wouldn't dream of it, Miss Dah-veed'' He sent her a sultry smile. ''If we haven't been called into work, did you have some other kind of activity in mind?''

Of course, she knew what he was getting at. Her throaty chuckled signified such. ''Perhaps.'' She replied with a wink. ''Now you are awake you may prove useful to me.''

''In what way?''

She pecked his lips. ''I have not had sex yet today.''

''Really?'' He mock-frowned. ''I think you'll find it was well past midnight when we finally went to sleep, sweetcheeks.''

She rolled her eyes. ''Are you really going to get technical right now? I just offered you morning sex.''

''Good point. Ignore me.''

Their mouths came together as he began the process of their planned activity. At first, the kiss was soft, gentle, loving. It was only after a few more moments of indulgence that their lust began to take charge. Hands started roaming as it became more frantic and frisky. There was no impatience in the air. There was no need to rush and sprint to the finish. They could be patient. Neither of them were going anywhere. Not now, not ever.

Oh yes, she could _definitely_ get used to this.

* * *

She goes about preparing the breakfast, as she does most mornings. Again, with there being no need to make their way to the navy yard, there is no need to show haste. She practically floats and glides around his kitchen as she allows her post-coital bliss to elevate her already pleasant mood. She knows his cupboards expertly by now, perhaps even better than he does. She knows exactly what he feels like after a snuggly Saturday lie in, too. An omelette, with bacon and sausages.

It's the smell of sizzling bacon, she suspects, that eventually lures her partner from his lair. He appears in the doorway, with his messy hair and stubbly cheeks. Her heart flutters when he rakes his eyes over her body, which remains completely naked underneath one of his old Ohio State shirts. She had returned her attention to the frying pan for only a brief second before his arms snake around her waist and his chin is brought to rest on her shoulder.

''Something looks delicious.'' He says quietly into her ear.

She lets loose her Mona Lisa smile. ''It is your favourite.''

''I wasn't talking about the food.'' He places a kiss to her cheek. ''But, you're right, it _is_ my favourite person.''

Her breath catches. She wasn't sure just how deep his romantic side went, but she was willing to find out. The further she dove into it, the more she fell for this man. She spins around and places a wet kiss to his jaw. ''Well, then I am treating you to a combination of your favourite person and your favourite breakfast.''

His smile could have made her melt. ''Sounds like heaven.''

''If it was heaven, I would be naked and the food would be ready.''

He chuckled warmly. ''I think you're underestimating how good you look in just my shirt and panties, sweetcheeks.''

She bites her bottom lip before stretching up to whisper in his ear. ''What makes you think I am wearing any panties, Tony?''

Her husky voice elicits a small growl from him, and one of his hands is immediately skimming along the hem of her adopted t-shirt, clearly poised to investigate the truth behind her hint. When his fingers hitch it up slightly, she feels a sudden rush as they brush along the crease of her thigh. She sees the way his pupils darken, and hears his sharp intake of breath. He's investigated all right, and he likes the results. Their gazes remain locked but become about ten times heavier. Perhaps round two is on the cards. Forget the breakfast.

It's only after a few solid minutes of making out that they realise the breakfast had _literally_ been forgotten. She breaks away from him with string of Hebrew curses when the smell of burning assaults her nostrils. The food is ruined, much to her annoyance. Throughout the twelve months of their relationship, they'd been interrupted countless times. It was usually Gibbs or McGee calling them in to work. Sometimes it was a social call from Abby, or even DiNozzo Senior. But Ziva hypothesised that Tony would find the destruction of his breakfast the most heartbreakingly tragic way to end their lusty activities.

Or did it end them? When she turned from the hob after preventing the potential fire and found herself swept into his arms, she got the answer to that. She let out a rather indignant squeal, before allowing herself to be carried all the way back to the bedroom. Her mouth barely left his.

If this is what her domestic life had in store for her, then it really _did_ sound like heaven.

* * *

 **I don't know what you guys think of this one-shot collection thing, but I just wanted to have it here in case I want to randomly express small ideas at any point in the future. My Balance and Delirious stories haven't been forgotten.**


	6. Vacation

''Momma, he keeps poking me!''

From the corner of his eye, Tony could see his beloved wife turn in the passenger seat. It was clear- to him, anyway- that her patience was running just as thin as his. They were both aware that he would probably lose his cool with the kids a lot easier than she ever would, though, so she was entrusted with all the in-car discipline. It was just as well, really, seeing as he was the one driving. Road raging was a bad idea when you have your family in the car.

Needless to say, Ziva's tone was not to be argued with. ''Jack, will you please leave the child alone.'' It was an order more than a request, and one she'd made numerous times already during this journey.

''I'm not doing anything!'' The seven year old insisted. ''She's just being a big baby.''

A brief glance in the rear view mirror was enough for Tony to see the exact reaction he expected from his daughter: crossing her arms and pouting, along with a small huff of annoyance. She really did have the Ziva look down to a T. Although, having already had the brown eyes, olive skin and dark, curly hair, it really didn't take much effort for his little angel to remind him of Ziva.

''You _were_.'' She argued. ''And I'm not a baby. I'm five, right Momma?''

Ziva tilted her head in the little girl's direction. ''That's right, _tatelah,_ you are a big girl now. Don't listen to him.''

Her voice was always so soft and reassuring. It never ceased to amaze Tony just how good Ziva was with their kids. They were never badly behaved children- quite the opposite, really- but they had existed long enough to learn that their mother would not stand for any crap. It was a lesson he personally learnt during the first few years of their partnership. The biggest difference was that he was frequently threatened with bodily harm, and his kids _never_ would be. _Ever._ No mother was more committed to shielding her children from the cruelties of the world than Ziva was.

''I'm so bored.'' Jack whined. ''And my butt hurts. Are we nearly there yet?''

Tony couldn't hold back the sigh. It was nearly two hours into their journey, and all he'd heard from the back seats were complaints of one form or another. _I need the bathroom, I'm hungry, Jack keeps poking me, Lena keeps kicking me, Are we there yet?_ He'd just have to add the hurting butt and boredom to ever growing list. Well, he supposed he should've known what he was getting into. Bringing a seven year old and a five year old on a long distance car journey could only ever lead to bickering, really. Especially if the aforementioned kids had the genes that Jack and Lena did.

He thought now might be a good time to try and win some peace and quiet for himself. ''Why don't you both try and take a nap?'' He suggested, in a tone lacking his usual gentleness. He had tried to mask his agitation, but the way Ziva turned to look at him with a slight frown was enough to tell him he hadn't been successful. ''We've still got a long way to go, guys. It'll make the time go a lot faster.'' _And the journey a lot nicer for him._

''I'm trying.'' Lena informed him. ''But poo-poo head keeps poking me.''

''Do not call your brother names, baby.'' Ziva admonished gently.

Tony could hear the huff from the little booster seat in the back. ''But he is a poo-poo head.'' Insisted the mini-Ziva.

''Would a poo-poo head do this?''

There was a slight shuffling, and then a loud _''Ouch!''_ coming from directly behind Tony's seat. ''Momma! He did it again.''

''Jack, enough.'' Ziva said.

''I hate you.'' Lena all but screeched.

Tony's whining and bickering limit had been reached. ''Okay!'' He said angrily. ''If you guys don't stop all this fighting in the next _five_ seconds, I'm going to turn this car around and we can all go home. No vacation for anyone. How does that sound?'' He could feel Ziva's eyes boring into the side of his face, but it wouldn't deter him. ''I've tried to be tolerant, but if you guys insist on being a pain in the ass all the way-''

''Tony.''

He was cut off by the sound of his wife's voice, not because it could always succeed in shutting him up (lord knows she'd tried enough over the years), but because she was using that tone again. The one she used whenever he needed to be calmed down. He took a few deep breaths to try and do exactly that, but it was only when Ziva reached over and rested her hand gently on his shoulder that he allowed himself to cool off. Okay, so maybe yelling was a bit out of order, especially after seeing how calm she had managed to be all journey.

''Sorry, Dad.''

And there it was. The sincerity and fear in his son's voice was enough to make him feel like a real ass. Because he didn't want that. He didn't want to be the loud, scary dad who always lost his temper. He was usually so calm and gentle with the kids, but there was just something about this particular day that had him feeling uncharacteristically agitated. Maybe it was the fact that he could remember being scared of his own angry, bad-tempered father when he was a child. He could also remember promising himself to be better than that if he ever had children.

He sighed again. ''It's okay. Sorry for yelling. I just…''

When he trailed off, Ziva seemed to sense an opportunity to keep the kid's minds occupied. ''You know, in the first few years after me and your father met, we used to fight all the time.''

He sent her a brief frown in question, but when he realised both their offspring seemed to paying attention, he let her carry on. In fact, he couldn't help but feel curious as to where she was going with this, too.

''Even in the car, Momma?'' Lena asked, seemingly amazed at the idea of her parents fighting in any way. Tony actually smiled at that. If only she knew the half of it.

Ziva nodded. ''Especially in the car.'' She confirmed. ''Back when me, Daddy and Uncle McGee used to be a team, we would have to travel all over the place for work.'' Her words brought back a mixture of dark, distant but mostly fond memories. ''And Daddy and I would argue for hours and hours about things that didn't even matter.''

Their eyes met, but there was nothing but love and affection in her eyes. ''We used to drive McGee and Gibbs mad. Our arguments could sometimes go on for days.''

''And I always won.'' Tony inserted cheekily.

She swatted his shoulder. ''It never mattered who was right or wrong, because we were just being silly.'' She continued in a somewhat thick voice. ''But, do you know what I realised after a while, Lena?''

''What?''

He heard her take in a deep breath, and knew that her next words would be heavy ones. ''I realised that, no matter how much he annoyed me and teased me, I could not hate him. Because your daddy was not a bully, he was my best friend.'' His heart had just started to ache when he turned to face her again, and he could see some tell-tale moisture in her eyes. ''And nothing could change the fact that we loved each other.'' She said with a small smile.

''And nothing ever will.'' He added, before lifting her hand to place a kiss to her knuckles.

Her smile grew slightly. ''No.'' She agreed softly. ''So never tell your brother you hate him, Lena. DiNozzos can never hate each other, okay?''

''Okay.''

''Good girl.''

And just like that, all Tony's previous frustrations disappeared. That woman would never stop stealing his breath. What the hell would he do without her? It didn't bare thinking about, and never had done. He couldn't believe it really. How far they'd come. He had managed to live his dream with the woman of his dreams, so how could he _ever_ get mad? His whole universe was sat in this car, so he could tolerate a little bickering here and there. They _were_ half DiNozzo, half David, after all. It was only natural.

''Daddy?''

His little girl's voice snapped him out of his thoughts again. ''Yes, baby?''

''I need the bathroom.''

He was surprised that, this time, there was no sigh to hold back. ''Again?''

Another look in the rear view was enough to see her confirming nod. ''Sorry.''

''Don't be sorry, princess. I'm kind of hungry, anyway.''

''Me too.'' Jack said.

Ziva turned to him again. ''Like father, like son.'' She recited with a smile. ''Perhaps we should pull over and have a little break.''

The voice of reason, as always, made a good suggestion in his book. ''Sounds good. There's a rest stop in couple of miles. We'll stop there for a little bathroom break, and maybe get some burgers. How does that sound, little munchkin?''

''Good.'' Lena replied with a toothy grin.

He caught Ziva's eyes once again, seeking the forgiveness he wasn't sure he'd earned yet for his little outburst. Her smile, along with the warm look in her eyes, was all he needed to see.

Living the dream.

* * *

 **A nice bit of sap for ye. Hope you enjoyed**


	7. Strong

**A slightly less happy one. Hope you like it**

* * *

Eliana DiNozzo always hated the hospital. Ever since she was a young child, she always found the place scary, and even a little unworldly. These sterile and shiny buildings were often situated in the centre of a city, or middle of a town, but it never really felt like real life when you set foot inside them. There was just something about the noise, the smell and the general essence of fear that made a hospital a very uncomfortable place. Ana had long ago ruled out being a doctor when she was older.

She turned to her older sister, who she still found it weird to be driven around by, and registered the look of pure fear and worry in her expression. Sometimes, looking at Sarah was almost exactly like looking at their mother. They shared almost every exotic feature, something Ana used to feel quite jealous about, but their Dad insisted they both look more and more 'Ziva-like' every day. And, really, he would know best, right? He'd known Mom for a lifetime.

Thinking about their Dad made Ana's heart sink, and she was cruelly reminded why they were on their way to hospital in the first place. Not that Sarah's face could let her forget. She decided to try and keep her sister's mind occupied with relatively happy thoughts before they had to enter the building of doom.

''You're getting really good at this whole driving thing, you know.''

Her words seemed to snap Sarah out of her thoughts, and she glanced in Ana's direction briefly. ''Really?''

She nodded appraisingly. ''I think so.''

''Dad's still worried I'll end up driving like Mom.'' Sarah recalled with a smile.

She chuckled lightly. ''Well, I haven't feared for my life at any point in this journey, so that's gotta count for something, right?''

To her relief, Sarah laughed for the first time that day. ''I guess so. But you've always been fearless, so maybe you just haven't noticed any of the close calls.''

''There haven't been any.''

''I know.''

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, it was Sarah's turn to keep their minds ticking over. ''So, are you gonna get yourself out on the road soon?''

Ana sighed with frustration. ''I'm not sixteen for another four months.''

''No, but in the grand scheme of things, four months is nothing.'' Sarah assured her. ''Besides, Dad can take you out and teach you the basics first. That's what he did for me.''

 _Unless he can't_ she thought to herself, but she didn't dare say it. Instead, she actually found herself smiling at a fond memory. ''Remember when you asked Mom and Dad if you could learn in one of their cars?'' Sarah's DiNozzo-grin signalled that her older sister knew exactly what she was talking about. ''And Mom was all like, _Of course. I can teach you,_ and then Dad nearly choked on his dinner.''

Sarah let out a small burst of laughter at the memory. '' _No way is that happening.''_ She mimicked in her best impression of their father. '' _You're a DiNozzo, so you're gonna drive like a DiNozzo.''_

''That led to one hell of an argument.''

Sarah nodded. ''Oh, yeah. I think Mom just pouted for whole evening after that.''

''In fairness, though, I can see where Dad was coming from.''

Her sister hummed in agreement. ''Apparently, her driving got, like, ten times safer after I was born as well. Can you believe that?''

Ana's jaw dropped, ''No way.''

''I know, right?''

''How bad was it before?''

Sarah chuckled. ''I dread to think.''

Their conversation abruptly ended when they arrived at the hospital car park. Reality came crashing back to them, and Sarah's face screwed up with worry again as a heavy sigh left her mouth. Ana wondered how long it would be before she saw her big sister smile again, but was fairly certain it wouldn't happen again for the rest of the day. They both hated the damn hospital. Especially when they were visiting someone close to them.

It was hell on Earth when they were visiting their own father.

They parked up, and slowly made their way over to the entrance of the dreaded building. Ana felt a huge weight in her chest as she stepped through the doors, and instantly wished she was at home instead of here. At home, on the couch with her Dad, watching one of his classics while Mom made them hot cocoa. God, she'd never really appreciated those kind of snuggly evenings until now. What if it never happened again? What if….

No. She couldn't think like that. She had to stay strong, for her mom, for her sister, for _him_. Uncle Gibbs always said that her dad's strength came from his family, so it was her job to make sure she gave him everything she had.

''Now, remember,'' Sarah began as they approached the elevators, ''Mom's gonna be acting all tough and calm, even if we know she's actually sick with worry, so try not to treat her like a helpless victim. She hates that.''

The elevator doors opened, and Ana simply nodded before stepping through them. ''I know. I just wish this wasn't happening.''

Sarah let out another heavy sigh. ''Yeah, me too.''

They stepped off on the third floor and made their way towards the room where they knew both their parents were currently situated. For some reason, Ana felt like she was holding her breath as they both crept through the door, but she was breathing normally again when she heard the steady beep of the heartbeat monitor. Before she could take a good look at her bed-ridden father, however, a familiar figure got to their feet to greet them.

Their mother didn't always need words, though. Instead, she simply gave them both a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. Ana could feel the tension and exhaustion radiating from her, even if she was putting on her usual brave face. She was always a hard woman to read, but when it came to their father, Ana could just _tell_. Worried didn't quite cover it.

''How's he doing, Mom?'' Sarah asked as they all walked over and surrounded his bed.

Ziva took in a shaky breath. ''He is… hanging in there. He has been asleep for a few hours now.''

Ana's heart squeezed when she heard the rattle in her dad's chest and throat as he breathed. He looked so pale under the oxygen mask, and for the first time that day, she felt her gut twist with fear. Her father was supposed to be invincible. She almost wished she could wind back the clock to a time when she truly believed that. But, as she got older, she learnt about his trying life, his battle with the plague, and his permanently damaged lungs. It had been made clear that pneumonia could be lethal for him, but she never really thought it would be a problem.

If the stories had taught her anything, it was that _both_ her parents were fighters.

 _You've got to stay strong_ she reminded herself. ''And how about you, Mom?'' She asked softly, ''How are you doing?''

At first, her mother looked a little confused by the question, but the eventual softening of her features told Ana she would get an honest answer, even if it was a vague one. ''I am worried.'' She replied quietly. ''He was not sick for this long last time.''

Sarah reached out and ran her hand over his wrist gently. ''Well, he's not getting any younger. Maybe it'll take longer to shake it off.''

Ziva said nothing in reply. When her eyes dropped down to her husband again, Ana could have sworn she saw her chin quiver slightly. For any other person, that is the equivalent of full-blown weeping. God, she must've been really scared. And who could blame her? They had been partners, in almost every sense of the word, for decades.

To their surprise, Tony lifted his hand to his face and removed his oxygen mask. ''Hey,'' He rasped as his eyes opened for the first time. ''What do you mean, I'm not getting any younger?''

His daughters both chuckled, but Ziva's mouth barely lifted at the corner. There was an unmistakable glint in her eyes as she looked down at him, though.

Ana leaned over him and placed light kiss on his forehead. ''Hey, Dad.''

He let out a small cough. ''Hey, baby girl.'' He wheezed. ''How you doing?''

''Good.''

Sarah gripped his hand, and leaned over to give him a hug in greeting. ''Hi, Daddy.''

He hummed as they embraced. ''How's my little driver?''

''I'm okay, I guess.''

He cleared his throat, the pain it caused etched across his features. ''You staying safe out there?''

''Of course.''

He nodded, and they pulled apart from their hug. ''Good, 'cause you know how much that car cost.''

She tilted her head and sent him a look of gentle admonishment. He simply chuckled at her reaction, but that action brought about a fit of wet coughs that had all three of their faces falling with concern. It sounded awful, and unbearably painful. Ana felt tears prick the backs of her eyes, but choked back the sobs that threatened to surface.

When the coughing died down, Ziva reached over and held his hand. ''How are you feeling, Tony?'' He held her gaze for a few loaded seconds, before glancing at Ana and Sarah. ''And don't you dare lie about it.'' Ziva ordered sternly. ''They are not children.''

He let out a deep, painful sigh as his eyes dropped to the hand his wife was currently holding. ''Pretty terrible, if I'm honest.''

''Oh, Dad.'' Sarah said quietly as tears visibly began to gather in her eyes.

Ana, once again, fought back the flood. She swallowed, trying hard to find her voice through her tight throat. ''Is there anything we can do?''

He forced a smile. ''You just being here is enough, Eliana-banana.''

In the corner of her eye, she could see her mother smile slightly as she bowed her head. He hadn't used his old nickname on her in a while, but she couldn't find it within herself to give him the teenager scold for it. ''Has Uncle Gibbs come to see you yet?''

He grunted in response, allowing Ziva to step in and talk for him. ''Abby brought him this morning.'' She said as she leaned over and brushed loose strands of hair off Tony's face. ''He looked good, I think. He seemed to have a bit more life in him.''

''Not enough to head slap me,'' Tony rasped, ''thankfully.''

Ana recalled that particular detail from the story she'd heard so many times. ''That's what he did when you had the plague, right?'' She asked in as light a tone as possible.

He nodded with a distant look in his eyes. ''That was his way of showing affection.''

''That's what he's always told himself.'' Ziva told them with a knowing look.

He looked back at her with a teasing grin. ''You're just jealous because he hit me more than you.''

She rolled her eyes. ''Yes, that must be it.''

''Gibbs always says you two drove him mad.'' Sarah told them with a fond smile.

Their parents' eyes locked, but there was nothing but affection shining in their eyes. ''We drove each other mad.'' Ziva said softly.

''Still do.'' Tony added cheekily.

She gently swatted his arm. ''You are lucky to be driven mad by me.''

''I know.''

After a long silence fell over the room, Ana decided to try and keep the mood as light as possible. ''Hey, Dad, you would have been proud of me last night.''

''Oh yeah?'' He rasped.

She nodded as a smile formed on her face. ''I taught little Andy the word 'probie.' And now he won't stop saying it to Uncle Tim.''

As she hoped, her father shot her the full DiNozzo grin. ''Really?''

''You should've seen his face.'' Sarah added with a chuckle.

Ziva tutted a few times. ''That is very cruel.'' Though, her own smile betrayed her.

''I trained you well.'' Tony beamed proudly. ''How'd he take it?''

''He added 'probie' to their 'naughty word' list.'' Ana told him with a smirk.

Her dad actually snorted. ''No way!'' He said in disbelief, before his chest started heaving with laughter. ''That's amazing.''

His voice was as thin as she'd ever heard it, and soon his laughter was replaced by another fit of coughs. These sounded much worse than before, and both she and Sarah shot their mom a panicked look. Ziva's face had already fallen, and her jaw had visibly tightened as she leaned down and grabbed his oxygen mask.

He waved her away. ''I'm good.'' His voice was barely audible.

''Put it on, Tony.'' Her voice cracked a little as she spoke.

His coughing wouldn't subside. ''I'm fine.'' His lungs begged to differ, however, and they could see his chest heave as he struggled to inhale.

''Tony, please.'' Ziva said in a softer tone.

He eventually accepted the mask, but his breathing didn't seem to get any easier. In fact, he almost looked like he was choking. His wheezy attempts to take in air got weaker and weaker after each cough, and Ana looked at Sarah with wide, panicked eyes. Her sister's eyes were now wet as she held her hand up to her mouth. She was trembling, and it took Ana a few seconds to realise that her own hands were shaking, too.

''Tony?'' Ziva asked, this time not even trying to hide her concern.

He shook his head and lifted his hand to grip her arm tightly, as more painful noises erupted from his throat.

''Dad, can you breath?'' Sarah asked in a panic.

''Go and get help!'' Ziva yelled.

Ana felt frozen to the spot. ''Mom-''

''-Quickly, Ana!''

Her heart was hurting, and her head was spinning, but she was out of the door in a flash. She wasn't even sure what words left her mouth, if any. Whatever she shrieked down the hallway achieved its intended purpose, though, because three nurses and a doctor came running towards her before disappearing into her dad's room. She followed them back in without hesitation. Before she could make three steps into the room, however, she was ushered out of it, along with her shaking sister and hysterical mother. They practically had to drag Ziva away from the doorway as she screamed and shouted to be allowed back in.

''Mom.'' Ana said as gently as possible. ''Mom, come on.''

''No, I need to be with him!''

''We are with him.'' She insisted. ''Please, Mom.''

After they eventually got Ziva to calm down slightly, she finally burst into tears. And that, above all else, is what made Ana's own eyes start to leak. She'd rarely seen her mother cry, but she'd _never_ seen her like this. She just looked so lost and helpless and _terrified_. Before she really knew what she was doing, Ana pulled her mother into a tight hug, and was surprised at just how urgently the embrace was returned.

Sarah stepped in and made it a big, sad group hug. ''He's gonna be okay, right Mom?'' She asked in a whisper. ''I mean, he just _has_ to be.''

Ana could feel her mom sob against her. ''I do not know what I would do.'' Ziva said thickly. ''I cannot do this without…'' Ana's heart broke as she heard the strongest woman she'd ever known struggle to find words. ''We cannot lose him.''

It didn't bare thinking about. Fifteen years' worth of memories suddenly flooded her. Her dad was always there to cheer her up, to talk her through the tough times, to be her rock, to teach her all the right lessons. He was safety. He was security. He was joy. And, living in a house without him? That just wasn't going to happen. It _couldn't_. He would never allow himself to leave them. He was too strong. But, right then, he needed his family to be strong for him.

''Hey,'' she said sternly as she pulled back from the hug slightly, ''we're not gonna lose him.'' Two sets of brown eyes met her as they all sniffed back tears. ''Okay? I mean, come on! He's _Dad_.''

Sarah wiped at her eyes before speaking. ''He's not invincible, Ana.''

''I know,'' she assured her, ''but he's been through too much to let this beat him, right Mom?''

Ziva sniffed again. ''His lungs are very bad, baby.''

Ana sighed in frustration. They just weren't getting it. ''Remember when you told us about the last time this happened? When Sarah was just a baby?'' Ziva nodded, her eyes were suddenly swimming with the pain the memory seemed to inflict on her. ''You said that, at the time, you didn't think he was gonna make it.''

Ziva shook her head. ''He was younger then.''

''Yeah, but you said that he started getting better as soon as you brought Sarah to visit him.'' Ana reminded her softly. ''You said he started fighting for her.''

Their mother turned to Sarah with a tiny ghost of a smile. ''He did not want you to grow up without your daddy.'' She recalled quietly.

Ana decided to throw in a Gibbs quote. They always seemed to have an effect on her parents. ''You do what you have to for family, right?'' Ziva's gaze returned to her, and Ana could see the hope reigniting in her deep, brown eyes. ''He's never gonna stop fighting for us, guys. He's not gonna give up.''

Ziva reached over and ran her hand over Ana's cheek with impossible gentleness. ''You are just like him, you know that?''

''That's not a bad thing.''

She shook her head. ''No, it is not. I love you two so much.''

They stood there, in a tight DiNozzo group hug, for what felt like hours before the door to Tony's room reopened and the doctor came back out with a sympathetic expression. ''DiNozzos?'' They all turned to him with hopeful looks, and weren't disappointed. ''He's stable, and his breathing has evened out.''

All three of them let out a sigh of relief, and Ana squeezed her Mom's arm in support. Ziva let loose a watery smile.

''Feel free to go and see him again, but make sure he keeps that oxygen mask on, okay?''

They all nodded, but it was Sarah who spoke up. ''We'll kick his ass if he takes it off. Thank you, Doctor.''

When they re-entered the room, the steady beeping of the heart beat monitor was, once again, a calming source of reassurance. Only, this time, it was ten times more welcome to Ana. He was okay, just like she knew he would be. Every rise and fall of his chest was proof of his undefeatable will to live.

She could see her mother's hand shaking as she reached over and ran it through his hair, before she leaned over him and kissed his cheek. Her mouth was moving as she whispered quiet words for his ears only, and her eyes were still wet with tears. Ana knew her parents loved each other, but in times like this she couldn't help but feel like they practically shared the same lifeline. As if one would fall without the other. That was why they'd spent so much of their lives holding on to each other.

His eyes were closed when she approached the bed, and she was quite glad to see her father resting, if she was honest. He needed it. She reached for his hand, and held it tightly as she tried her best not to let her emotions get the better of her.

 _She had to stay strong._

Even in unconsciousness, she felt him squeeze her hand. It was only a small twitch, but it was enough to spread warmth through her chest.

He was staying strong, too.

* * *

 **Tony wouldn't leave his girls, eh? Hope you liked the latest one-shot. Delirious chapter 12 is in the works, I promise. And Balance will get my full attention after I finish that story.**


	8. Fix

**Just a scenario that popped into my head. Hope you like  
**

* * *

The atmosphere was tense, to say the least.

This 'mutual' separation was turning out to be one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do. It didn't help that part of her—a rather large part, at that—kept reminding her that she didn't _have_ to do it at all. It felt like they were giving up. Neither of them were ever any good at just throwing in the towel, and they were both even worse at having to face the consequences of such a decision head-on. She, personally, would tend to deal with this whole thing by locking herself away from the world and hurting on her own. She suspected that Tony would want to hit the bottle, but she knew he wouldn't. Just like she wouldn't let herself fight this on her own as she would have years ago.

They had both changed each other so much.

She heard his tentative footsteps behind her, and turned to see him standing in the doorway and staring emptily at the items in his hands. She felt another piece of her heart shatter— (she must have been running out of them by now)—and took a step towards him to try and see what he was holding. The air seemed to grow even thicker when she saw the framed pictures of them, as a couple, in various locations and at various occasions over the past few years. She felt her eyes burn as the task of looking directly at him became too difficult to even contemplate.

''Did you put these in my box?''

His voice was softer than it had been at any stage over the past week, and she could tell he was trying to keep a lid on both of their emotions. It reminded her, again, that she couldn't just stop loving him. She wasn't sure she even wanted to. She wondered if he felt the same way or if he had already started to hate her.

''Yes,'' she answered quietly.

''Why?''

Now he sounded hurt, and she felt her stomach twist with guilt. ''I know they are your favourites.''

He shifted the pile of pictures again, scanning through them with heavy eyes. ''Yeah? I know they're your favourites, too. Why do I get them?'' She could feel his eyes burning into the top of her head. He was trying to get her to look at him. ''Ziva?''

It was the soft utterance of her name that did it. She felt her eyes grow misty as she finally lifted her gaze to his. His expression matched his tone, and she had to literally fight the urge to throw her arms around him in a crushing embrace. God, she missed him so much. How was she ever supposed to get through this? She didn't have a chance if he kept looking at her like that.

She swallowed hard. ''I didn't want them,'' she lied.

''And you think I do?'' His frown answered his own question. ''I can't look at these, Ziva. Not if I want to stay sane.'' He unceremoniously dropped the pictures onto the couch. ''But, hey, I've still got the rest of the apartment to go. Still plenty more of these damn pictures and reminders to go. Can't wait.''

He turned away from her and made to leave, but Ziva couldn't help but hear the blame in his words. ''Don't be like this, Tony,'' she pleaded.

Then he was back in front of her again, with fire in his eyes. ''Like what?''

She couldn't find it within herself to raise the octaves to his new level, so she remained quiet and calm. ''We promised not to blame each other for this,'' she reminded him. ''I cannot help but feel like you are pointing the finger at me.''

His voice softened, but not his face. ''I don't blame you.''

''We agreed this was what we both wanted.''

His jaw tightened. ''What we both _wanted_?'' He bit out in disbelief. ''You really think I _want_ to lose you? You really think I _want_ to spend the rest of my life wondering what I could have done differently? Wondering how the hell I ruined the best thing that's ever happened to me?'' His voice started to waver slightly. ''I don't _want_ any of this, Ziva.''

Guilt. Bitter, unrelenting and all-consuming.

''I do not want you to blame yourself, either,'' she told him with pleading eyes.

He ran an agitated hand over his face. ''Then who's to blame? There are only two candidates here, Ziva. And if it's not me or you then—''

''Neither of us,'' she insisted.

''Or both of us.''

She lifted a trembling hand to her face, pinching the bridge of her nose. She'd have to add frustration to the list of things she was feeling. It would fit in nicely alongside despair, guilt, longing, anger, loneliness, self-loathing, agony, heartbreak and confusion. Not to mention love, which only added to the confusion. Maybe Tony was right. Maybe they were both to blame, because how else could something so good end up concluding like this?

She let out a heavy, shaky sigh. ''You are making this too hard, Tony,'' she gently accused.

He looked like he was about to argue with her, and so she braced herself for another round of agonising, yelling and emotional distress. She was surprised, then, when he visibly bit back whatever remark he was about to make and simply let out a sigh of his own. She watched as his eyes glanced back to where the pictures now lay in a heap, and she fell in love with him all over again when his features softened considerably.

''Sorry,'' he murmured sincerely. ''You can keep the pictures, Ziva.''

He left the room again. She stared after him and felt that all too familiar longing again. It had been ever-present since the break-up and it really didn't help when she had to see Tony. She dropped onto the couch as she felt the whole situation crush her very soul. She knew that sifting through the pictures would only make things worse. A _lot_ worse. But she was holding them before her mind could catch up. Oddly enough, though, she discovered that browsing through them made her feel far more peaceful than she would have guessed. Tony was right, they were a reminder.

Lord knows, she needed a reminder of what happiness felt like.

And she could see it. It was in Tony's easy grin and her bright smile as they posed in front of the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona. It was the look of sheer joy and relaxation in both their body languages as they lay together on the couch at Christmas time. It was in their eyes—both their eyes, that never did shut up—when they danced together at McGee's wedding. Warm tingles spread through her body as she remembered that evening. It was the first time in her entire life where she felt like she'd made it. Where she could see a future filled with happiness. A future with Tony.

Why was this happening?

The last photograph was the one that hit her the hardest, though. It was from the day that they had moved in together, that much was clear in her memory. She wasn't sure who had taken it, but she could remember what was happening at the time. Her and Tony had bickered for hours over how many DVDs he had, and how many books she had. They argued and argued, until Ziva had stormed out to cool off. When she had returned, the bookshelf in the living room was full. Half of it contained her favourite books, organised into all the different languages they were written in, and half of it had his favourite films.

'' _Let's just try this,''_ He'd told her. And it had been perfect.

The picture itself was of them as they stood in front of the shelf, all arguments over, with Tony leaning his forehead on hers. They both had small, intimate smiles on their faces as they gazed into each other's eyes. The picture was so beautifully simple, and so symbolic of their relationship, that it had instantly become her favourite. She knew Tony felt the same way about it, too, and it couldn't help but force a smile out of her as she stared down at it. She'd never forget that day, just like she suspected she'd never forget this one. The contrast between then and now was too much to bare, however.

Here they were, undoing and destroying everything they had built together, and for what? She couldn't even remember at this point.

She jumped at the sound of Tony's voice. ''I haven't seen that smile in too long,'' he said affectionately. She looked up at him as her face fell. ''Forgot how much I missed it.''

The tears she had been fighting all day finally won. She felt them leak from her eyes as she stared down at the picture again. ''Why are we doing this?'' She whispered, both to herself and to him.

''I don't know.''

His voice was quiet, gentle, as if they were lying together after a long day and just wanted to hold and feel each other. She felt a sob wrack her body as all the despair landed its knockout blow. After a few moments of her showing her weakness, she felt the couch dip as he sat next to her. She could sense his hesitation as he slowly reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She, however, had no hesitation in leaning into the embrace and resting her head against him. She hadn't realised just how much she missed him until then, and so she closed her eyes and practically buried her head into him.

''Do you think we're making a mistake?'' He asked her.

She was surprised by how quickly she answered. ''Yes.''

She felt him squeeze her tighter. ''I can't just stop loving you.''

It was a feeling she knew all too well, and one she had been wrestling with all week. Relief at the fact that he didn't hate her stole her breath. ''I know,'' she agreed in a hush.

''I don't _want_ to stop loving you,'' he added.

She sniffled, and lifted her hand to rest it against his chest. ''Neither do I.''

He placed a kiss to her curls. ''I think we should fight, Ziva. For us.'' She nodded against him. ''Because it's only been a week, and I already feel so lost without you.'' She didn't have to look at his face to know he was in tears now, too. ''Nothing we ever fight about can change how I feel.''

She leaned further into his arms. ''I miss you.''

''I miss you, too,'' he returned thickly. ''God, Ziva, I miss you so much.''

''I want to fight for us,'' she told him, repeating his earlier words.

He nodded. ''We will.''

She scoffed at herself. ''What were we thinking?''

''I don't know,'' he said on a chuckle. Her heart warmed at the sound. ''I think we forgot all the important stuff about our relationship.''

She sniffled again. ''Like what?''

''Like the fact that we're partners. That we're a team.'' He leaned down to kiss her cheek. ''And that nothing has broken us apart before, so why should this? Why should we let this end everything? We're too strong for that.''

She gripped his t-shirt in her hands. ''Yes.''

''I love you, Ziva.''

She allowed herself a small smile. ''I love you, too.''

''Nothing's going to change that.''

''I know,'' she assured him.

He ran his hand up and down her back, working away all the tension and despair. ''What do you say we stop being crazy, and unpack these boxes? Then we can order take-out, and just talk.'' She pulled back slightly to meet his eyes, and felt a huge surge of hope. ''How's that sound?''

''Better than crying myself to sleep,'' she said as lightly as possible. ''Which is what I had been planning to do.''

His face softened again, and he sent her a gentle look of admonishment before leaning over to kiss her forehead. Before he could move away, though, she grabbed his shirt and pulled him towards her for a real kiss. His lips were soft as he indulged in the act, and she poured every promise, pledge and proclamation of love into it, hoping that he would hear what she was saying. When it ended, his eyes told her that he got the message, loud and clear.

They were already winning the fight. She knew they could fix this.


	9. Weight

**Not sure about this one. It kind of popped into my head, but I'm not sure I've adapted my idea the way I wanted. Oh well, you might like it.**

* * *

The bar was quiet, only a few small voices echoed in his ears as he sipped on his third drink. It may have just been the acoustics, but it made the almost empty room seem hollow. A place that was so often full and vibrant was nothing but a sad void, with very little occupying it. Nothing but a few clusters of people, scattered and meaningless, only adding to the faint buzzing he'd been hearing in his head all day. If a place could be hand-picked to symbolise his mood, this would be it. He was alone, lost, and could only seem to focus on one of his scattered and painful thoughts at a time.

Except he didn't want to focus on anything.

He'd been like a ghost since the incident, pale and haunted. He was present, but not _there_. Gibbs new it straight away, of course, and it didn't take him long to give him a steely glare of concern—or maybe it was just pity—and leave him alone with his thoughts after some strong words. And that was fine. He knew how to put up with his boss' version of tough love, and always expected it after all these years. It was after his partner returned from processing the scene that it all became too much.

He didn't know what to expect from her. Ziva could offer support and comfort through soft looks of concern and the occasional calming touch, or she could just as easily use a more Gibbs-like method, effectively sitting him on his ass with stern words and a tone that dared him to argue. In this instance she'd had to try both methods, such was his state of mind. Her lack of success was probably as familiar as his dismissive responses. This wasn't the first time he'd hurt her through his self-punishment. And every time he hurt her, in any way and for any reason, it only made him hate himself that bit more.

But if he was a failure as an NCIS agent, he may as well be a failure at being a good partner, too.

She was probably out there looking for him all evening. Hell, he _knew_ she was. He could feel it, and wasn't sure whether he was thankful for still having that ability or not. What was the point in having such a deep connection to Ziva when all he did was let her down, disappoint her, and make her witness his inability to save people and do his job? His duty. As a cop, he should have taken the bullet himself, he should have acted faster. And he tried to— _of course_ he tried to—but trying wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to stop a child from dying in his mother's arms.

The kid was five years old. _Five._

He felt his eyes burn again and shook his head. The drink in his hand offered nothing but numbness. It wouldn't turn back time. It wouldn't lift the weight of guilt from his chest. It wouldn't bring back little Josh Dawson, or bring any comfort or closure to his parents and infant sister. Hell, it wouldn't even make the temptation to hand in his badge go away. But it would make him feel numb. That was all he wanted right then.

He let out a heavy sigh when he picked up her scent, and didn't let himself look at her when she slipped onto the barstool next to him. Her face and eyes and hair always flooded his body with warm tingles of familiarity and affection. He didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve the to feel his stomach flip as he watched her, or to let himself get lost in the depths of the brown pupils he was sure were being aimed at the side of his face.

He didn't deserve _her._

She was waiting for him to speak, but he had no words that he hadn't already said. He thought she was in the same position, but would she be here if that was the case?

''Why are you not answering your cell?''

He swallowed some more whiskey, and placed the glass down on the bar with a little more force than necessary. ''Probably because it's in my car,'' he answered in a tone he knew she didn't deserve. He felt the self-loathing kick up a notch.

He saw her nod slightly. ''And where is your car?''

''Navy Yard.''

She was trying her best to remain patient, he could tell, and he definitely heard a quiet sigh leave her mouth as she looked away. ''This is the sixth bar I have been to,'' she told him, a slight waver in her voice. ''I searched the NCIS gym, all your usual quiet spots along the river and in the park. I even went to Gibbs' basement.''

He tilted his head with a shrug of his lips. ''I can't fault your dedication.''

''And I cannot fault yours,'' she said honestly. ''You seem determined to shut me out.''

He scoffed with no trace of genuine humour. ''Well, I learned from the best.''

Her head span back to him, and a part of Tony cursed himself for hurting her again. She seemed to be forgiving, though. For now, at least. ''This isn't you, Tony,'' she said softly, her hand moving to cover his free one. ''This isn't how you deal with these things anymore.''

He finished his drink in one large gulp, and grinded his teeth. ''It's been a while since I let any five-year-old kids die. This is the only coping mechanism I know for that,'' he shot the briefest glance to their hands and back, still not daring to meet her eyes. ''If you don't like it, leave.''

A sharp frown burned the side of his cheek. ''I am too scared to leave you alone.''

''Why? You scared I'll go off and get someone else's son killed?''

Another sigh. ''I am worried what you will do to yourself,'' she said a bit more harshly, before poking the top of his hand to emphasise her insistence. ''And it was not your fault.''

He rolled his eyes at her persistent use of that line. ''You ever heard the phrase about broken records, Ziva?''

''Yes, I have,'' she bit out. ''And right now you are a broken record on the verge of shattering.''

He simply shook his head, another futile attempt at dismissal. She allowed him a few moments of blessed silence—well, mostly silence. That damned buzzing still wouldn't stop. He signalled to the bartender for another refill. In the corner of his eye, he noticed the slump in Ziva's shoulders. He gave brief consideration to the idea that she might finally be giving up, and was surprised when a rather large part of his brain protested strongly to it. It would be good for her own sanity, but not his, and maybe he wasn't quite ready to lose his mind, after all. Her certainly wasn't ready to lose her.

''Are you joining me for a drink?'' he asked her eventually. ''Or are you going to keep trying to convince me I'm not a screw up?''

Her gaze shifted to the side of his face again. ''I am not trying to convince you anything,'' she insisted. ''I'm trying to remind you.''

''Of what?''

Her hand came to rest over his again. ''Of who you are.''

He swallowed again. ''A screw up?''

''No,'' she said quickly, her patience getting thinner. ''You are a man who saved two lives today. A man who has saved _countless_ more lives in his career, including mine. You saved a marine's wife and two-year-old daughter from suffering the same fate as Josh did. That madman would have killed them all, Tony.'' Her gaze was burning hotter than ever on his face. ''You cannot save everybody, but you still saved them.''

His throat grew far too tight, but he still wouldn't look at her eyes. _Couldn't._

''They had to watch him die, Ziva,'' he all but whispered. ''Right in front of their eyes.''

She took a deep and shaky breath. ''And they will never be the same. But he was trying to protect his sister. He was brave and he was loving, and that is how they'll remember him.'' The bartender slid another glass of bourbon his way, but she intercepted it. ''They certainly won't blame _you_ for his death every time they think about him.''

He knew she had a point, but he wasn't ready to stop hating himself yet. ''I could've been faster,'' he told her. ''You would've been faster.''

''No, I wouldn't.''

The weight on his chest increased in pressure. ''Maybe it's a sign. Maybe I'm done.''

Ziva knew what he was implying—big surprise there—and he could feel the panic radiating off her like a nuclear generator. He'd been thinking about it all day. Thinking, but not saying. And now he'd finally let the words out he almost regretted it. Because, honestly, he still wasn't sure if the temptation to resign was fabricated or not, and he knew that his partner would be more than against the idea. He could almost hear her swallow as she slid the glass of bourbon out of both their reaches.

'' _Tony_ ,'' she said, her thin voice forcing him to close his eyes against her obvious hurt. ''You cannot mean that.''

''I don't know!'' He yelled, ignoring the way the whole bar seemed to go quiet and look at him for a second. He ran a frustrated had over his face. ''I don't know what I mean, Ziva,'' he continued far more quietly. ''I don't know what to do with myself right now. I thought I would just get drunk on my own, but I can't even pull that off.''

Her hand somehow ended up on his shoulder. ''Tony, look at me.''

He shook his head, his eyes growing dangerously wet. ''I couldn't save him.''

''Look at me,'' she repeated.

''I've let you all down. Again. I've let _you_ down, and pushed you away, and hurt you.''

She reached up and forcibly turned his head her way. He couldn't fight it any more, he had no choice but to meet her eyes this time. And there it was, that tingly warmth, despite everything else going on it was still there. She could still cast him under her spell, even when he did nothing but alienate himself all day. Even when she must hate him. Even when he let her down again and again and again—

''I have told you all I can about this,'' she said in a much gentler voice than he expected. ''I have tried to get the message in to your head all day, but you will not listen.'' She took another deep breath, and he resisted the urge to reach over and brush her hair behind her ear. ''You have not let anyone down, Tony, and you certainly have never let me down.''

If this continued, he thought he would probably end up sobbing. ''I've treated you like crap.''

She narrowed her eyes. ''You think I don't know what you're going through?'' she asked rhetorically. ''You think I do not understand why you want to drink yourself into a stupid?''

''Stupor.''

''I prefer mine,'' she shot back. ''I know what you are going through. But, if you refuse to talk to me about it, then I will leave.''

The idea of Ziva throwing in the towel both surprised him and terrified him, so all he could do was frown down at her. She didn't seem to be finished, though. ''But first, I just want to tell you how proud I am of you.''

His frown only deepened. ''Proud?''

''Yes,'' she nodded with sincerity. ''I am so proud of you, Tony.'' Her finger was moved to his lips to shush him before he could argue. ''I am proud because, even after all these years, you still care this much. You still care enough to be devastated when you cannot save everyone.'' Her eyes were wet now, too, and he felt the tingly sensation grow even more. ''You put everything you have into ensuring people's safety, and for that, we are all lucky to have you.''

Her words hit home, but he still felt low. _Really_ low. ''It's hard, Ziva,'' he murmured. ''There's this weight—this dark, heavy weight—and it's seems to get heavier and heavier.''

Their hands gripped each other and she shook them. ''Then let's carry the weight together,'' she suggested softly. ''Let me help you, Tony. You do not need a bourbon bottle when you have me.''

Her eyes were pleading, insistent, and now he wasn't sure whether his heart was squeezing from the pain or simply from love. Maybe both. It didn't really matter, anyway, because he knew she was right. He needed her, even if he didn't think he deserved her. He _needed_ her, and he got even angrier at himself for not realising that earlier. Because, really, if their positions had been reversed, would he not expect her to let him help? Well, maybe he wouldn't _expect_ it, but he would at least want it.

''I don't want you to go,'' he told her.

Confusion etched her features. ''Hm?''

''You said you'd leave,'' he reminded her. ''If I wouldn't talk to you.''

That seemed to jog her memory. ''I did.''

''Can you stay? I promise to try and talk.''

After searching his eyes for a few moments, she nodded. ''Okay.''

He felt his face melt, and this time he did reach over and brush a few loose strands of her hair away from her face. ''I'm sorry, Ziva.''

She held his gaze again, and after a few seconds she caught him by surprise by stretching up to kiss him on the cheek. The action, and the softness of her lingering lips, made his whole body feel warm from top to toe. When she pulled back, he could have sworn fresh tears were gathering in her eyes. He knew they wouldn't fall, though.

''There is nothing to be sorry for,'' she assured him.

He still begged to differ, but the weight was already starting to feel lighter.

* * *

 **Again, not too sure how good that was. Too much cheesiness? Sorry, I'm just in a weird mood today. Hope you liked it. (And I will happily admit that Ziva's 'proud' speech was heavily inspired by one in _Scrubs,_ but I thought it could work. Cheers, lovely peops **


	10. Stakeout

**They'll never be together on screen again, but they'll always be together in my fictional worlds.**

* * *

Ziva was never a fan of stakeouts. It meant sitting still for hours on end, eating greasy fast-food and waiting helplessly for something that was essentially out of your control to happen right in front of you. These were all things she was bad at. She hated stakeouts at Mossad—they could often go on for weeks—and it wasn't exactly much of an improvement in her first few years with NCIS, either. Spending hours on end with just Gibbs meant complete silence and an unwavering focus on the job that felt almost oppressive. McGee was much better company, but his maddening politeness and level head still made stakeouts with him an almighty drag. And then there was Tony, who talked _too_ much. And, as much as she enjoyed his company (generally speaking), it only ever made the experience that bit more exhausting.

But, lately, he'd been quiet. Very quiet. And he didn't seem particularly keen to change that during this particular stakeout. He was distracted and distant and closed off and it was freaking her out. Because she'd rarely seen him like this, especially when he had her alone for company. It always gave her cause to be concerned, and she hated not being able to read him in situations like this. She was also aware that he usually only got like this when a girl was involved, but did her best to ignore the irrational stab of jealously that line of thinking seemed to elicit in favour of simply being a good friend. Despite the steps they had taken towards each other in recent months, that was all she had the right to be: a best friend and supporter.

The truth was that she didn't mind his chatter, or his insistence on talking about everything and nothing to pass the time. All his stakeout traits that she used to find irritating had slowly become an almost welcome part of their alone time, in fact. To the extent where she actually relied on them, and missed them when they weren't there.

She glanced across at him again. From the driver's seat he stared at their suspect's favourite bar, and although there was certain air of professionalism in his eyes, Ziva could tell his mind dwelled somewhere far away from where they sat. She just wished she knew where it was so she could try and help him. If he needed help, that was. Or even wanted it.

After a deep breath and another sip of her tea, she tried to break through the wall he'd built between them. ''You are very quiet, Tony,'' she said lightly, hiding her concern behind a façade of mere curiosity.

He didn't even turn his head in her direction. ''Yeah?''

His words came out on an exhale, and she knew him well enough to know that he was barely listening. She pushed aside the hurt and tried to chip away again. It looked like she would have to do this brick by brick. For a brief moment, she wondered when it was that their roles had been reversed.

''It is unlike you to sit here for so long and not have something to complain about,'' she joked. Ordinarily, it was the best way to bring him back down to Earth. Back to _her_.

Air blew out from his nostrils in what could well have been a scoff. ''I thought I was unbearable on stakeouts.'' It wasn't exactly a question or a statement, but it was more than he'd said all day, so she decided to hear him out. ''McGee would rather shoot himself than be sat where you are, you know that? I thought I'd spare you, seen as you drew the short straw.''

Right. So he was bitter about something, and maybe even mad at her. Or maybe it was just McGee. It could have been neither, though. Ziva still hadn't uncovered much, but she was bothered about what he was saying about his friends' view of him.

''That is not true,'' she argued gently.

''That I'm sparing you?''

She sighed and rolled her eyes. ''That I drew the short straw. Or that you are unbearable.''

His eyes moved from the bar for the first time in what seemed like forever, but they strayed no further than the radio on the dash in between them. ''So you'd prefer it if I kept talking until you had to resist the urge to stab me with a fountain pen?''

''I'd prefer it if you were yourself,'' she said pointedly. ''And I do not even have a pen on me.''

His head tilted slightly. ''You probably should, being a federal agent and all.''

Her eyes rolled again, but she was in no mood to let him deflect her topic of conversation. ''Tony.'' Her voice finally, _finally_ moved his gaze to her, and she made sure her eyes told him that she wasn't going to let this go. ''What is wrong?''

For a second, he looked like he was about to tell her. His expression softened and another deep sigh escaped his lungs. But only for a second. She felt a pang of disappointment when he looked back out the windshield again. And, despite the fact she was expecting it, his dismissal felt like a slap to the face.

''Nothing.''

It was a lie; she was almost certain of it. The worst part was that he didn't want to open up to her, of all people, in their post-elevator world. It made her theory about another woman being involved even more valid, but she pushed back her heartache. They had set a precedent for sharing things before their place of work had exploded, and she tried to remind him of it. ''The last time I saw you like this, it was because Brenda Bittner drove her car into a tree.''

That earned her a glance and a raise of his eyebrow. ''None of my ex-girlfriends have done that recently,'' he told her.

''I am glad to hear it,'' she said honestly. ''But I thought that,'' she swallowed back the fear that was suddenly threatening to choke her, ''maybe, another woman was behind your recent troubles.''

This time his head did spin back around to look at her. Something heavy and loaded had clouded his eyes, and for some reason it reassured her before he'd even spoken. ''There's no woman, Ziva.''

His soft voice made her stomach flutter, and a wave of relief washed over her like a warm shower. But, again, she ignored it. ''But you have been troubled.''

The slight twisting of his mouth confirmed it, but he didn't say as much. ''I don't think troubled is the right word.''

''Then what is?''

His brow furrowed, but his lips pulled back into an almost fond smile. ''Why the sudden interest?''

''Because I am your partner, and your friend,'' she said easily, before looking away a little shyly for her next point. ''And because I thought we were telling each other things about things.''

When she looked back up, her heart slammed at the expression he was sending her way. He clearly understood her reference to a previous conversation of theirs, and the now there was an unmistakable amount of fondness and affection in his smile. She could feel his wall crumble further.

 _Brick by brick._

He took a deep breath and looked forwards again, and this time she could tell there would be no dismissal. ''I've been a little distracted lately,'' he eventually acknowledged. ''That much I can admit. But it's not women troubles, or _any_ kind of troubles, actually. It's a good thing.'' He frowned at the glass. ''I think.''

That was good to hear, but it didn't explain why he seemed so lost lately. ''If it is a good thing then why do you not want to share it?''

''Because I needed time to think. I _still_ need time to think.'' He looked back at her with a completely open expression. ''And I honestly have no idea how to have this conversation with you.''

Conversation? If he meant the kind of conversation she thought he did, then that would explain why her chest felt incredibly tight all of a sudden. If it was a talk about _them_ , then it was both overdue and very much needed. However, that didn't make the prospect any less terrifying. Ziva began to berate herself for forcing this out of him while they were stuck in a confined space, but decided to bite the bullet after another look at his open face.

She swallowed hard, but wanted to ensure him that she was always there for him. ''You can try. It's only me.''

He smiled again, but not for long. With a shake of his head he spoke his mind again. ''It's not only you. I mean, it's _mainly_ you, but it's kind of everybody else, too.''

Her nervousness turned to confusion. ''I do not understand,'' she replied with a frown.

He sighed again and reached up to run his hand over his face. He suddenly looked exhausted. ''Remember when I told you that Jenny offered me the Rota team a while back?''

A while back being years, in this case. And, yes, she did remember him mentioning it. But right then his words sent an icy river of panic through her veins, and she couldn't think back to when and how he'd mentioned it. Had he been offered it again? Did he accept? Would her partner and best friend and…well, _Tony_ be flying off to live and work on the other side of the Atlantic? She could see why he didn't want to tell her because, honestly, just the thought of it made her heart shatter.

She tried to force some words through her tight throat. ''Have you been offered it again?''

The potential answer scared her more than any relationship-related conversation she had been previously expecting ever could. But, to her monumental relief, he shook his head. ''No. Vance has offered me my own team, though.''

''Where?'' she dared to ask. The idea of him being somewhere on the West coast or anywhere else outside of D.C didn't sound any more appealing than him being in Europe. She knew it was selfish, but she wanted him to stay right here. With their team. Whether he annoyed her on stakeouts or not, she couldn't imagine not having him at her side.

''It would be right here in D.C,'' he told her with impossible calm. ''I'd still be in the Navy Yard, actually, so I could still see you guys whenever I wanted.'' Now it sounded like he was almost trying to talk her into it, which only made her feel even more guilty about her selfish attitude. ''Gibbs was there when Vance talked to me, and he thinks I'm ready.'' Tony looked down at the steering wheel thoughtfully for a second. ''He thinks I've been ready for years.''

It was still painful imagining him leaving the team, but it was a pain she knew was bearable now that she knew he'd still be close. And she could tell—she could just _see_ —that he was very much open to the idea. Maybe even excited by it, in fact. If she was honest with herself, she thought he was ready, too, and she only ever wanted what was best for him. She only ever wanted him to be happy.

''What do you think?'' she asked him, forcing his gaze back to her.

His expression was loaded again, but she wasn't sure if it was directly related to her or not. ''I think I'm ready for things to change.''

She wasn't sure whether her heart was beating heavily because she was so proud of him, or if it was breaking again because she might be losing her partner. Either way, she gave him a tight nod. ''I know you would make a great boss.''

He frowned slightly, but his smile showcased the lack of any real accusation when he spoke. ''You didn't like it when I was the boss.''

She tilted her head and returned his smile, though hers was much sadder. ''That is because you were becoming a good friend at the time,'' she admitted honestly. ''And because I missed Gibbs. It does not mean I thought you weren't cut out for the job.''

His smile grew slightly, letting her know he was teasing. ''I know.''

They stared at each other for a few moments. ''So, what do you think you will say?''

''To Vance? I'm still not sure.''

She nodded, understanding. ''What does your gut tell you?''

He looked away with thoughtful frown. ''That I shouldn't have skipped lunch.''

''Tony.''

His face turned more serious. ''That I should take the job.''

She still sensed doubt in his tone. ''But?'' she prompted.

He looked back. '' _But,_ I really love working with you guys,'' he confessed honestly, making her chest warm and tears prick her eyes. ''And I'm not sure if I can trust someone else to come in and watch your backs.''

Ziva understood where he was coming from. She wasn't sure how she felt about trusting a team of strangers to watch his back, either. But she knew that was no reason for him to hold himself back. ''We can watch each other's backs,'' she reminded him.

He nodded, and it seemed as though he'd already thought this all over. ''I know you can.''

''Tony, do not take this the wrong way,'' she began in a slightly weak voice. ''I would miss working with you more than anyone, but I think this is the right time for you to take this step in your career.'' He raised his eyebrows at her, but she held up a finger insistently before he could make his joke. ''That does not mean that I can't wait to get rid of you.''

His smile grew for a second, before disappearing. ''I would really miss working with you, too.''

Her face softened. ''But we could still see each other,'' she reminded him hopefully, trying her best to look on the bright side. ''We can still be a part of each other's lives.''

After a few more deep exhales, his eyes shifted to her hand before he slowly reached out and rested his over it. ''That's the thing,'' he said a little brokenly. ''I think you're a bigger part of my life than NCIS.'' Her face melted at his confession, and she turned her hand to thread his fingers through hers. ''The biggest,'' he added in a whisper.

This time she couldn't fight back the tears as they gathered in her eyes, and she glanced down at their hands with a sniff before looking back up at his face. Now his quiet and distant mood made perfect sense to her. Because, really, this potential change in his career meant far more than just a promotion. It meant a massive change in their relationship.

''You cannot stay simply for your partner,'' she said quietly.

He nodded quickly. ''Oh, I can,'' he argued. ''It's the only thing making me hesitate.''

She felt guilty again, this time for holding him back. ''Tony—''

''I don't want to lose you as my partner,'' he cut in softly. ''But I do want my own team.''

She ran her thumb over his knuckles. ''You have to choose what is best for you.''

He nodded. ''I am,'' he assured her. ''I will. But I need to know something.''

''What?''

Now he looked nervous for the first time. ''Would you be open to changing the definition of our partnership? So that we can always be partners, we can always watch each other's backs, no matter what?''

Yes, that sounded ideal, but she wasn't sure how it would all come together. ''How would that work?''

He looked away again, and his hand started twitching against hers. ''Our friendship's been getting a lot stronger recently.'' He squeezed her hand for emphasis. ''I think we've been growing closer and closer together for a long time. But I still want more.'' Her heartrate spiked when his head turned and his eyes burnt back into hers. ''And I get the feeling—just a gut feeling—that you want more, too.''

He'd thrown another curveball at her. Because, as it turned out, this wasn't just a talk about his job offer. This was about that and more. This actually _was_ a conversation about them, and the state of their relationship. And here more than ever she understood why he was so nervous about bringing up the prospect of him leaving the team with her. Because then the last barrier standing between them and a more intimate relationship—Gibbs and his damned rules—would be gone. As much as that scared her, it still sent a jolt of hope and excitement through her.

And he was so very right about her wanting more. ''Yes.''

Her thick voice made his face melt. ''The only thing holding me back is the fact that we're on the same team, and that it could cause _a lot_ of complications.''

She smiled through the anxious emotion. ''But, if you left the team, there would be nothing to hold you back,'' she summarised, showing her understanding of his situation. ''Both professionally and personally.''

He nodded. ''Exactly.''

''I can see why you have taken so much time to think about it.''

He chuckled. ''Yeah. It's a pretty big decision.''

She squeezed his hand in solidarity. ''I am sorry for assuming it was women troubles.''

His smile grew, before he lifted her hand to place a soft kiss to her knuckles. ''You were half right, I guess.''

Another uncontrollable flutter tickled the inside of her stomach. ''I will always be your partner, Tony,'' she vowed thickly. ''No matter what path you choose.''

''Really?''

He sounded relieved to hear that, and she felt the affection for him shining through her. ''Whatever partner you need me to be.''

His gaze softened to a far more intimate look that she hadn't seen too many times before, but already loved. ''So, you're open to change, too?''

Earlier on, she wouldn't have known her answer. The fact that he was definitely referring to their personal relationship as much as their professional one would have made it harder, too. But, after this honest conversation, she found herself nodding without a hint of hesitation. ''Yes.''

Tony's smile never failed to make her feel happier, even more so now than they'd cleared the air. And her concern over his mind-set had now been replaced by a bright light of hope as she looked on to her future. _Their_ future.

''So, when will you talk to Vance?''

His eyes shifted back to the bar they were officially there to focus on. ''After the case, I think.''

It only struck her that they were still holding hands after a few moments of him gently running his fingers along hers. Back and forth, back and forth. It was so comforting and safe and _right_. Her eyes burned with tears again, but that didn't stop the smile that coloured her face as she looked down at their conjoined hands.

''I am happy for you, Tony.''

It was honest, soft. She should have said it as soon as he'd mentioned the offer, but the impact it would have on their partnership took priority in her thoughts at the time. He didn't seem to mind, though, if the way he squeezed her hand again was anything to go by.

''Ziva.''

She looked back up at the shift in his tone. It had turned serious and business-like. When she followed his gesture, she saw their suspect walking into the bar, looking suitably shady and suspicious. All of a sudden, it was time to let go of each other's hands and do their job. They got out of the car and headed towards the building with a new-found sense of professional urgency.

It hurt her to know this could be their last stakeout together—their last case together, even. She had to push that pain aside, though, and remember that it would not spell the end of their partnership.

 _Brick by brick_.

They'd knocked down the wall that had always stood between them, and now they would build their life together, one brick at a time.

* * *

 **Bit fluffy and sappy, I know. I just can't help it, guys!**


	11. Rest

**Serious fluff alert. Like, seriously.**

* * *

Ziva was just about to dry the last of the dishes when she heard the front door open. She knew who it was, even before the sound of her daughter shrieking out ' _Daddy'_ echoed through the house, but the sound of the greeting made her smile nonetheless. She bent down to put the plate away, grunting slightly as the seven-month old baby bump made the task harder than usual. She absent-mindedly rubbed it in a soothing motion as she stood back up and left the kitchen. After a whole day of toddler duty, her weariness was starting to get the better of her, so she was even more grateful of her husband's arrival. He was always very good at helping to keep Lilia occupied.

''How's my little munchkin?''

Tony sounded tired, and maybe even a little bit down, but the giggles suggested he had still got his hands on the toddler. ''Good!'' Lilia replied giddily.

Ziva rounded the corner to see father and daughter sharing an almost identical toothy grin. It only took one look at Tony's face for her to notice the bruises on his jaw and around his left eye socket. Her initial concern was suppressed, though, when she realised the child in his arms still hadn't noticed. Not yet, anyway. One look at Ziva—one shared gaze—was all Tony needed to tell her that it was nothing too serious.

Tony gave the little girl a quick kiss on the cheek. ''You been good for your mom?''

She seemed to be aware of her mother's presence for the first time, and her little smile grew proudly. ''Uh-huh,'' she nodded. ''I eated all the pasta!''

''All of it!? I'm so proud of you, princess!''

Ziva snorted at Tony's exaggerated reaction, but just as she reached the end of the hall to join them, Lilia had apparently seen that her daddy's face looked different than it had done when he left for work earlier that day. Her smile abruptly fell away and was replaced by a frown. It was hard to tell if she was worried or simply confused. Ziva suspected it was a mixture of the two.

''You hurt your face, Daddy?'' Lilia asked, reaching up to run her fingers over the dark patches with surprising gentleness for a toddler.

He winced slightly. ''It's nothing, sweetie. Daddy just had a rough day at work. Don't worry about it.''

Ziva reached up to turn his face in her direction, forcing another wince. ''What happened?''

''Our perp decided that double murder and armed robbery weren't serious enough charges, and thought it would be a good idea to add 'assaulting a federal officer' to the list.''

''Hmm,'' Ziva frowned as she inspected the injuries further. ''That cannot have ended well for him.''

He shrugged. ''Does it ever for these people?''

She supposed he had a point. ''Were you checked for concussion?''

''Palmer gave me the all-clear,'' he said dismissively, readjusting the squirming child in his arms so he could lean down and kiss her. ''Hi, by the way. Everything good with the baby?''

''Yes, everything's fine,'' Ziva returned, before poking the bruise by his eye lightly. ''You should put ice on this.''

His face suggested he was entirely against the idea. ''Already have,'' he said as he began to carry Lilia through to the living room where her cartoon could still be heard blaring from the TV. ''For hours and hours.'' He looked down at his daughter and made a face. ''If I apply any more ice my face will be able to sink the Titanic.'' That elicited another giggle from Lilia. ''Is that funny, my little hyena?''

It certainly seemed to be. ''You're silly!''

''Well, that makes two of us.''

Ziva followed after them with a fond smile tugging at her lips. Tony had dropped down onto the couch with a relieved groan by the time she had walked through the doorway. The way he immediately tipped his head back against the cushions with closed eyes showcased his obvious exhaustion even more. Lilia got to her feet and bounced up and down next to him, apparently oblivious to his tiredness as the TV screen held her attention.

''Let your father rest, _motek_ ,'' Ziva said gently. ''He is tired.''

Lilia stopped bouncing and turned around with innocent curiosity. ''Daddy's sleepy?''

Ziva sat down next to her, momentarily taken aback by how relieving it felt to take the weight off her feet. A heavy yawn escaped her mouth before she could try and hold it back. ''Yes, he is sleepy,'' she replied eventually.

The little girl leant into her now, all wide eyes and messy curls. ''Ima's sleepy, too?''

Ziva smiled. ''Yes,'' she admitted softly. ''A little.''

Lilia reached over and placed her hand gently on her little brother's baby cocoon. ''Gotta rest for the baby?'' she asked in a whisper.

That forced Ziva's smile to grow as she felt her chest warm. ''That's right.'' She rested her hand over her daughter's for a moment before lifting it up and kissing her tiny fingers. ''I have to rest so the baby will be happy and smiley when we meet him. Like you.''

Lilia nodded, seemingly satisfied with the reasoning, and slid off the couch with a soft thud. ''Lie down, Ima,'' she instructed.

Her eyes widened slightly, despite her drowsiness. ''I do not have a pillow, _neshomeleh._ ''

''Daddy's a pillow.''

Ziva couldn't help but chuckle, and with a quick glance at Tony's face she could see him smile under his closed eyes. ''I've been called worse, I guess,'' he murmured.

''Sshhh, Daddy,'' Lilia admonished. ''You gotta rest. You hurted your face.''

He cracked open an eye to look down at her in amusement. ''Is that what the doctor orders?''

''Yes. Ima's gonna lie on you.''

With a quick shrug of his lips, he closed his eyes fully again. ''Well, who am I to refuse?'' he asked, reaching out to Ziva. ''Snuggle up, sweetcheeks.''

Ziva started to readjust herself and shuffled in his direction slightly. ''There is a perfectly good bed upstairs, you know.'' She caught Lilia shaking her head just as she lay down her head in Tony's lap.

''Too far,'' Lilia told them.

That forced a chuckle out of both her parents. ''Kid makes a good point,'' Tony agreed in a submissive tone.

Ziva had to admit, this position was easily comfortable enough to fall asleep in, and she felt sleep beckoning her after mere moments, only vaguely aware of Lilia pottering around the room looking for something. She felt Tony's hand come to rest against her stomach, and she looked up to see him smiling to himself. Overwhelming affection is the first feeling that washes over her, but she couldn't help but be curious.

''What are you smirking about?'' she whispered.

He shook his head, opening his eyes to look down at her. ''Just wondering where the hell we found her,'' he whispered back.

Ziva's own smile is filled with pride. ''She came from us, apparently.''

His eyes flicked to where she assumed Lilia was, and there was a sparkle in his eye that had become achingly familiar since her birth. ''She's going to be a great big sister.''

''She already is.''

Her own words caused tears to gather in Ziva's eyes all of a sudden— _damn hormones—_ and she took hold of Tony's hand as it rested over her bump. Not for the first time since she'd become pregnant again, she pictured the future that lay ahead for their little family. It never failed to fill her with hope. It seemed as though she had finally done something right with her life. Her attention was brought back to her Lilia when she returned to the foot of the couch with a blanket rolled up in her hands.

''Got to be cosy for the baby,'' she whispered up to her mother. '' _Ken?''_

Ziva felt Tony squeeze her hand just as the tears threatened to spill again. She smiled down at Lilia and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, earning herself a full DiNozzo grin in return. '' _Ken._ Thank you.''

She helped to fan the blanket over the couch, and couldn't help but have similar thoughts to Tony about how they could possibly have created someone as precious as this. A large part of her wasn't all that surprised, though. Not really.

''Ima's gotta rest,'' a soft voice rose from the floor. ''For the baby.''

The TV held Lilia's attention once more, but it was clear that their little munchkin still had their backs. Ziva closed her eyes after another sleepy smile, and it wasn't long before she slipped away into a blissful slumber. Violent perps aside, they had found their peace.

* * *

 **Been a while since I'd written anything. Not sure where that fluffy sappiness came from, but maybe we all need some these days. Hope you enjoyed.**


	12. Lost

**Been a wee while. Thought I'd post a short little thing I whipped up in a few hours in order to see how rusty I am (which is very, it turns out.)**

* * *

''That house looks familiar.''

''That's because we've driven past it already,'' Tony mumbled from the driver's seat.

Ziva knew this, of course, but couldn't help highlighting the fact. They'd been sent out into the middle of nowhere, to chase down a lead that was probably nothing, and now they were lost. Well, at least that was how Ziva labelled it. For some reason that had always been unknown to her, men simply removed the term 'lost' from their vocabulary whenever they entered unfamiliar territory in a car. It was as if admitting that they had no idea where they were going was some sort of dent to their masculinity.

Tony was no exception to this, and if it weren't for his supreme confidence—as well as his earlier insistence that using a GPS wasn't necessary— then Ziva may have considered _not_ being a pain in the ass and rubbing it in. As it so happened, the idea of behaving in such a manner sounded rather appealing.

''So, are we doing a few laps of the area to memorise its layout?'' she asked in a tone she knew would piss him off. ''Or do you simply admire this stretch of road so much that you felt it warranted a second visit?''

His jaw tightened along with his grip on the steering wheel, suggesting she had, indeed, pissed him off. She smiled internally.

''You just want me to say it, don't you?'' he replied eventually, his tone far calmer than she expected.

''Say what?''

He scoffed and shook his head slightly. ''The thing that you want me to admit.''

''Tony.'' His name came purring out of her mouth, but she was feeling restless and playful, so she didn't care about the unplanned sexiness to her voice. She leaned across and placed a hand on his knee, rubbing slightly as she spoke. ''Is there a deep, dark secret you want to confess to?''

He glanced down at her hand on his leg and shook his head again. ''I think you've been cooped up in this car too long.''

''It is ok,'' she continued to tease. ''It is only me that will hear it.''

This time her lowered tone made him look at her face, and their eyes locked over an almost negligible distance. It had happened like that countless times before, but Ziva was struggling to remember the last time she had looked into those eyes without being distracted from whatever her current goal was at the time. In the early days of their partnership, when almost every interaction they had was an attempt to satisfy some form of sexual curiosity in one way or another, usually through teasing and innuendo, she had never found that one quick glance from him was enough to change her mood entirely.

All these years later, however, she found herself feeling less restless and playful when the look he sent her was full of familiarity and affection.

His eyes went back to the road, but her hand remained where it as for some reason.

''Was there anything in particular you wanted me to confess to, Miss David?''

''Maybe.''

''Because, I'm pretty sure we had this conversation a while back. And I don't remember how it went exactly, but our out-of-town trips have been…interesting ever since.''

She finally leaned away from him with a small _hmph_. ''There is nothing interesting about being lost.''

''Aha!'' He exclaimed triumphantly, pointing an accusing finger at her. ''You were trying to make me say it.''

Ziva shrugged. ''How do you know I was not just coming on to you?''

He let out a chuckle that struck her as slightly nervous. ''I can tell when you're faking.''

''Does that count for every situation?'' Her eyebrow raised of its own accord.

It took less than half a second for him to catch on. In fact, she suspected his thoughts were in the exact same place before she even said it. ''Most situations, yeah. But there are some things I've never seen you fake.''

She let out a laugh. ''I would not be so sure.''

Tony gave the road a bitchy smile and tilted his head in an attempt to stop her getting to him. ''Your persistent attempts to emasculate me will not succeed.''

''I did not force you to get us lost.''

''We're not lost.''

Ziva couldn't help but raise her hands in exasperation. ''Why is it so hard to admit?'' For the life of her, she just didn't get it.

He let out a heavy sigh. ''Fine. If you really want me to say it, then I'll say it.''

''You will not be any less of a man if you do,'' she ensured him.

''Here goes.'' Tony cleared his throat, and she wasn't actually sure if it was an act or not. ''Sometimes I can't tell if you're really coming on to me or not.''

Ziva let out a pained groan and hit her head against the back of the seat. ''Oh, my god.''

''You were right. That wasn't so hard to admit.''

She wasn't sure how the tables had turned, but it was just like Tony to flip the situation on its head and wind _her_ up. This time, it was her sighing. ''You are such a…''

''Such a what?'' he asked smugly, poking the bear. ''A righteous, honest man?''

Ziva scoffed internally and turned to look out the passenger window. ''I was actually thinking of something less complimentary.''

''That doesn't sound like you.''

He was probably expecting his sarcastic remark to earn him an eyeroll, or perhaps even a remark of her own in response. Ordinarily, he would have been right. But for some reason Ziva found herself smiling at the trees as they flicked in and out of her visual perspective through the window. She wasn't sure how Tony had forced it out of her, but she was also struggling to care. It was actually one of a select few redeeming traits she'd never found annoying about her partner, his ability to make her smile. She had always tried to ignore the fact that he probably knew exactly how and when to do it, though.

Ziva supposed she could live with him never admitting when they were lost. He'd admitted enough to her over the past year, even if most of it wasn't necessarily through words.

''There's a gas station up here.''

She turned back to him as he snapped her out of her trance. ''Are we low?''

His eyes flicked to the fuel gauge. ''Could probably do with a top-up.''

Ziva nodded. ''They will probably have a map as well.''

He turned off the road and pulled up next to one of the gas pumps. ''A map would be useful,'' he admitted, almost in a whisper.

Her head whipped round to regard him again. ''And why is that, Tony?''

The smile that creeped onto his face told her, once again, that he was well aware of what she was doing. ''There might be a slight chance that I don't know where I'm going.''

''Aaahh.'' She drawled. ''I'm sure there's a word for that.''

He shook his head. ''Nope. I don't think so.''

* * *

 **Not much, I know. I'll be posting again soon, so stay tuned.  
**


End file.
